


Performance

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Super Junior, Super Junior-M
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sungmin doesn’t belong to him. Sungmin will never belong to him, not while he’s with someone else. Donghae doesn’t think this is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lixia84’s prompts ‘tease, cane, playing with fire, forbidden, yearning, restraint’ for Porn Battle XIII.

Donghae knows he’s playing with fire, but he can’t help himself. He doesn’t care that what he wants is forbidden to him. It makes his desire all the sweeter, makes it that much more painful because he has to exercise some restraint and not go after what he wants in his usual haphazard fashion.

Sungmin doesn’t belong to him. Sungmin will never belong to him, not while he’s with someone else. Donghae doesn’t think this is right. It’s not just because he wants Sungmin, either. It’s because Sungmin deserves better than what he’s got.

Donghae doesn’t know how to tell him this. Words have never been his strong point, and though they say actions speak louder than words, Donghae thinks this is bullshit. He’s danced in front of Sungmin so many times, tried to show his emotions through the music and the moves, but Sungmin never seems to notice. Maybe it’s because Sungmin is so careful to follow the choreography, while Donghae likes adding little riffs and teases to make even the most corporate of dances his own. Sungmin dances with concentration and steadiness; Donghae moves from the hips and dances from his soul.

He knows he can make Sungmin open up and dance from the soul, too. He just has to convince Sungmin to let go.

He tries it backstage, a snatched moment amidst the organised chaos. If it goes wrong, they can both put on their game-face and continue with the concert, and the high of the atmosphere and the adulation of the thousands of fans will erase any hurt feelings. That’s his reasoning, anyway. 

Donghae balances his Charlie Chaplin cane over his shoulder and swaggers over to Sungmin, who’s peering into a mirror as he adjusts his platinum blonde Marilyn wig. Donghae swings the cane down, flicks the tip of it beneath Marilyn’s sexy _The Seven-Year Itch_ dress. He lifts the back of the skirt the same way he does when they’re on stage, admiring Sungmin’s thighs and the succulent curve of his ass.

Sungmin meets his gaze in the mirror, then flicks a warning glance to one side. “Careful,” he murmurs. 

“He’s not here,” Donghae says, then looks around, just to make sure.

“You should stop.” Sungmin turns and leans back against the dressing table. “You know he’ll kill you if he catches you.”

“Can’t catch Charlie.” Donghae tips the rim of his bowler hat to a rakish angle and grins.

“He could,” Sungmin says, answering smile only half formed. “You know he could.” His voice is tight with yearning and the knowledge that this spark between them is wrong.

“I don’t care.” Donghae puts a hand on Sungmin’s bare arm. “Can we talk?”

“Right now?” Sungmin raises his eyebrows, but allows Donghae to lead him to a more private part of the backstage area. They stand amongst racks of discarded costumes, the sharp stink of sweat overlaying everything, and the smell brings with it a kind of urgency. Not just because they’re due back on stage within the next few minutes but because the bittersweet scent of sweat reminds Donghae of dancing and making love and he wants both of these things, wants to experience them with Sungmin.

But he’s not clever with words, he’s just not, and Sungmin is looking at him expectantly and time is ticking, running through his fingers just like this opportunity, and he can’t think of anything to say. Donghae looks at Sungmin’s costume, glances down at his own, and he starts talking: “Marilyn and Charlie, they’d be good together.” 

Sungmin gives him an arch look and makes a moue, and Marilyn’s scarlet lipstick on Sungmin’s full, beautiful mouth is such an obscenely sexy sight that Donghae feels his dick stiffen in response.

“Don’t you think Marilyn would be better off with Superman?” Sungmin asks, tilting his head and curling a finger through the ends of his blonde wig. His lashes flutter. “A woman likes a big strong man to hold her close. A woman loves a hero.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Donghae glances behind them and takes a step closer. “Superman can’t give Marilyn anything she doesn’t already have. Superman might be able to rescue her from danger, but he can’t give her anything else. He’s a crap hero. He’ll rescue thousands of girls but he’ll never give any of them his name, he’ll never let any of them close. He’s not a hero. He’s a basket-case. And he’s really selfish.”

Sungmin is gazing at him, eyes suddenly wide, his expression soft and startled.

Donghae flounders, aware that he’s gone beyond what is right and acceptable even between friends. A flush of anger heats him; his throat is tight. He should just leave this alone, but he can’t.

“And Charlie?” Sungmin prompts, very gently. “What can Charlie give her?”

If he was thinking straight, if this was an ordinary conversation, then Donghae would make some cheap joke about giving her his cane, and Sungmin would wrinkle his nose and call him an asshole and they’d both laugh and it would be okay. 

But this isn’t an ordinary conversation, and Donghae says, “Charlie’s a clown. That’s what Marilyn needs. Someone to make her laugh. Marilyn has such a crazy life. She doesn’t always know what’s best for her, what’s the right thing to do. And if she asked Superman for advice, he’d tell her to do the moral thing, the sensible thing. But Charlie, he wouldn’t say that. 

“He’d give her options. He’d tell her jokes to help her decide. And sometimes his jokes make her laugh so hard she cries, and other times his jokes make her angry, not because they’re not funny but because she laughed at something she thinks she shouldn’t laugh at. And then she’ll realise that, with Charlie, she can be who she needs to be. Not the cute bit of arm-candy for a hero but a real woman who lives and loves and _laughs_ , and Charlie will work so hard to tell her jokes and make her smile every day, and—”

“Stop.” Sungmin places his fingers over Donghae’s lips. 

Donghae is silent. Sungmin doesn’t take his hand away. They stand there for a long moment, and then Sungmin takes a huge step into Donghae’s arms and kisses him. Not sweet and teasing like Marilyn, but hungry and demanding. Donghae tastes her— _his_ —lipstick, feels the waxy smear of it across his cheeks and chin as Sungmin eats at him in desperation.

“Shit,” he breathes. “Sungmin. Oh fuck.” He grabs at Marilyn’s skirt and slides a hand up Sungmin’s thigh, all warm and muscled and full of strength. He touches the hem of the long shorts Sungmin wears beneath the dress, then shifts position and palms Sungmin’s cock. He’s hard, his balls bunched up inside the snug fabric. Donghae moans, clutches at Sungmin’s dick and rubs. They’re in the wrong place for this, at the wrong angle and, well, everything would be so much better if they were lying down and naked and far away from here.

Sungmin makes a growly noise and shoves his hand down the front of Donghae’s trousers.

“No, wait,” Donghae begs. “I want to do this properly, with a bed and candlelight and wine and flowers and all that shit. I want to treat you like a lady.”

Sungmin yanks off Marilyn’s blonde wig and throws it aside. “I’m no lady,” he says, and goes down onto his knees.


End file.
